


a desperate little spider

by Star_less



Series: the 'snips, snails, puppy-dog tails' verse [6]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Accidents, Avenger Peter Parker, Desperation, Gen, How Do I Tag, Infantilism, IronDad & SpideySon, Irondad, Long Shot, Not Canon Compliant, Omorashi, One Shot, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter as an Avenger, Poor Peter Parker, Post-Avengers (2012), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Slice of Life, Superfamily (Marvel), Team as Family, Trapped In Elevator, Wetting, daytime accidents, diapers are alluded to, imagine avengers but with hoco stitched onto it, spideyson, this is all part of one big story that fits together really well in my head but less good elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:18:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18637990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Star_less/pseuds/Star_less
Summary: ...he had asked the kid what he wanted to do - expecting Disneyland, IHOP - hell, Chuck E Cheese's at a push. But no, the only thing Peter had asked was that he got to spend some time with Tony and they could share some lunch together afterward.Peter is enjoying his time with Tony so much that he neglects to take care of his own body. With JARVIS on shutdown the situation quickly becomes a disaster for the young boy, especially when his quick bathroom trip is cut off by an elevator malfunction... an elevator malfunction in which his only companion is mother spider herself, Natasha Romanov.





	a desperate little spider

**Author's Note:**

> wheeeee here I am again. someone asked for this and I was like well why not. this took me 6543234567654 years to write tho ive been working on it since last year
> 
> contains omorashi (pants wetting, desperation to pee) Peter is also written as a bit younger hence the infantilism tag, there are mentions of diapers and accidents in general but this is because this fic was part of a bigger better fic that went sour. IF YOU DON'T LIKE THOSE THINGS THIS ISN'T FOR YOU. 
> 
> t for swears

Pulling the computer monitor around to face his protege, Tony hummed softly. "Tell me what you think of this, kiddo. All good?"

A few days had passed since his rushed promise to Peter that they could spend some time together... and that exact rushed promise had been weighing on his mind since. Today that day had arrived; 10am this morning he had asked the kid what he wanted to do - expecting Disneyland, IHOP - hell, Chuck E Cheese's at a push. But no, the only thing Peter had asked was that he got to spend some time with Tony and they could share some lunch together afterward. This had taken Tony by surprise slightly, but he knew there was a rational reason for it. Steve had (apparently) told Peter that Tony's workshop was off limits to anyone but the very important. True as it was, it meant that Peter had been clamouring ever since to get inside - that was all. Now he had, they had settled down with some of Tony's prototypes, blueprints and works-in-progress to pour over.  
Lunch was in a hour.

"Mmmm.." Peter leaned forward excitedly, studying the green lines of code that scrolled up on the monitor and comparing them to his notes. "Yeah, that's not configuring, is it? Has it been debugged?" he murmured thoughtfully, taking over the keyboard and starting to type quickly. Tony watched the boy type, unable to keep himself from smiling fondly. It was obvious - from the smile on Peter's face to the stars in his eyes to his rapid typing - how excited Peter was, even though this was fairly basic stuff.  
"Uh huh." he affirmed. However, he couldn't help but notice the teenager had started to fidget, pressing his legs against one another and twisting in his computer chair. Tony raised a brow. He wasn't going to have any accidents in his workshop this afternoon. "Run that line of code and head to the bathroom kiddo," he instructed casually. 

"Yea.." Peter said in response, voice as thoughtful as anything, although the bathroom was the furthest thing on his mind currently. He could feel the pulsing in his abdomen telling him that his bladder was full - and yet it somehow felt distant, like he didn't need to pay attention to it yet. He frowned with concentration as he altered the line of code - then settled back with a satisfied squirm. "I- I think I've done it, Mr. Stark." he nodded, pressing 'run'. Stark's gaze drifted to his charge as the familiar beeping came from the monitor signifying the code had run successfully. Ah.  
That was Peter's signal to head to the bathroom... except of course he didn't move. Stark raised his eyebrows, but at this point he expected nothing less from Peter... had to let him learn the hard way, after all. "Great job, kid," he beamed.  
Peter stood and, having downloaded the code to a micro SD, matched his mentor's grin. "It's ready now, right?" he asked excitedly, starting to bounce on his toes again. Now that he was standing and gravity was pulling downwards the fullness of his bladder was evident to him, although the bouncing helped a little. He squeezed his legs in the midst of looking toward his mentor for approval. 

"Course it is." Tony nodded, unveiling the gauntlet they had been working on - an upgrade to Tony's current armour, specifically the legs. "Fire up, bud." he encouraged. Peter (still squirming) slotted the SD into the armour; and promptly 'oooooh'ed excitedly as it lit up.  
It worked!  
He couldn't quite keep himself still at this point - partly out of excitement, but partly his attempts to hold back his pee. Stark kept up the staunch battle to ignore all of the fidgeting going on, knowing it was important for Peter to speak up about it himself, even if the teen currently showed no signs of slowing down and heading to the bathroom. “Why don’t you test it out, make sure it’s working?” the mentor encouraged. “They’re not made for you, but I’m sure you’ll do great.” He gestured to the apparatus and un-clicked a few components so Peter was able to test it on himself. The teenager pulled each armour plate over his legs under Tony’s watchful eye, and then Tony clicked the components back into place. “How are they, kid?” He asked. 

Peter blew out a breath that was very slightly agitated. The armour was heavy on his legs and as the presses in his abdomen urged him to tuck his legs in closer together, he found they prevented him from doing exactly that. Moving his legs was a slow, careful process as the legs were clunky and resistant. “I… I think they’re alright.” He frowned at his feet, all too aware of his toes bunching up tight under the hi-tech plates, before nodding at Tony. “What do you need me to do?”“Just some running, kid.” Tony nodded. The kid was an agile runner and always had energy to burn off. It meant that Tony could be reassured that the technology wasn’t about to cut-out on him… and perhaps the pressure would finally encourage Peter to make a detour. 

Peter shifted his weight toe to toe. “Um… okay.” He nodded, before taking off. 

After a good fifteen minutes of watching the kid run, jog and side-step Tony had finally had enough. It was obvious that he had 1. underestimated the kid’s energy levels even with a full bladder, as it seemed to know no bounds, and 2. that no amount of squirming was going to get Peter to the toilet until it was too late - kid was much too distracted for that by this point. Peter on the other hand was thankful for such a distraction. Running about as he was, even if he was hindered just slightly by his unfamiliarity with the technology, pushed his filling bladder and tender abdomen to the back of his mind. Even if he tried to consciously think about it, all he could feel was a nagging sensation that shivered up his spine every now and then. If… if it was what he had to cope with to help Tony, it was what he was going to cope with.  
Unfortunately it seemed that the genius billionaire of a mentor of his had other ideas. Perhaps it was because of the way he was twisting his hips as soon as he stood still, but… Peter didn’t think it was THAT noticeable…  
Moving forward, the genius-turned-mentor pulled the child to a standstill and then silently helped Peter un-click the armour from his legs. As he did so he could feel the force of Peter’s trembling legs as the teenager subconsciously held on - it clinched it for Tony that Peter was well, well past the point of wanting a break; he needed one, whether he wanted to be away from the workspace or not, and he needed Tony’s help to figure it out. As soon as Peter’s legs were freed from the confines of the armour, Peter was back to fully squirming. Tony sighed, taking Peter’s hand in his own (and ignoring the whining that he had become so accustomed to.)  
“Fun time’s over, kiddo, come on.” Tony explained, his grip tight even as Peter tried to wriggle free. 

“Where are we going?” Peter asked, frowning when Tony all but ignored him. He trailed anxiously behind his mentor as they headed out of the workshop - all the while wondering if he had done something wrong or misbehaved at some point. An anxious tight knot started to form in his tummy that only unwound itself once Tony stopped. Peter slowed too, still shuffling, although he flinched when Tony gripped his shoulders. 

“Can you tell me what’s going on, kid?” Tony questioned with a raised brow. Peter looked puzzled. “There’s nothing...” he started, but trailed off when Tony shook his head. “Relax,” Tony urged knowingly, kiddo needed to shake himself out of the ‘I’m still working’ mentality before the urges kicked in. He had been caught out by this many a time - having worked for hours on a project, jumped up for a coffee, and then been doubled over, a second away from fully fucking bursting. It just took time.

Peter’s mind was still in overdrive, very much so, but as the codes and formulas and busy beeping from the workshop started to drift away then the ticklish sensations in his bladder became obvious. “Oh!” Peter squealed, his face crinkling with pain as he felt the urge to swing over at the waist there and then and squeeze with all his might. How had he not felt this when he was working?! “Oh, I... I have to pee..” he blushed at his mentor, cheeks igniting. “Can I.. can I go to the bathroom?”  
As if Tony would ever say no - he was practically cheering at the fact Peter had recognised it this soon. “Of course you can kiddo. Let’s call a break for lunch, don’t be too long.” he allowed, watching with a sense of fatherly protection as Peter danced his way into the elevator. 

 

*

By the time Peter had settled inside the elevator, he had the words, “Jarvis, bathroom now!” on the tip of his tongue - but was stunned into shy silence by Nat who was stood leaning against a rail in the corner. “Hey, kid,” she answered coolly, “Where are you going?”

This stumped Peter slightly; despite his bladder being so obviously full, he didn’t want to admit to Nat - cool, calm (and a little bit scary) Nat, of all people - that he was dying to go to the bathroom. “Um..” He began shyly, doing the telltale squirm foot to foot as he thought. “I… nowhere special… j-just level sixteen, my room.” he shrugged, relief pooling in his stomach as the elevator jolted into life and began to make the climb upwards. She nodded at him, and didn’t question his fidgeting; there was no point in embarrassing him. Of course she knew what his dancing meant - time spent with Clint’s kids had taught her it was universal code for, ‘bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!’  
“Cool. I’m just going to the common room, you should come by.” she offered him with a smile. He nodded earnestly all the same, excited to spend some time with Ms. Romanov. “After I g-” he began, then caught himself with wide eyes, “After I nap. I wanna nap first. I’ve been busy with Mr. Stark.” He blustered his way through an explanation with a faint blush on his cheeks.

Natasha nodded, not questioning the boy despite him quite obviously half-assing an excuse. “Oh, I think everyone needs to nap after spending time with Stark,” she pointed out dryly. “I’m surprised you lasted that long.”

The duo climbed in a steady, comfortable silence accompanied by soft, semi-threatening 'clunk's and 'clang's. It would have been a perfectly pleasant journey if the elevator's smooth and slick movement hadn't begun to slow around the level of floor seven - nine or so floors too early. The spotlights studded along the ceiling of the elevator began to go out one by one as though they had been shot out. JARVIS tried to speak, but all that came out were electronic gurgles, "M' sor-- appear to be-- some techni-- issue. I'll cont- St'rk." he said - his final cry before all of the power in the elevator died and it came to a full exhausted stop. Neither Peter nor Natasha seemed to register what had happened for a long moment, the pair giving each other that wide eyed look of disbelief. Peter was the first to speak. 

"M- Ms. Romanov, are we... stuck?"  
A sickly feeling had lodged itself in his throat and his stomach, reminding him all too much of his reasons for boarding the elevator. A needle of fear made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, jabbing a thin tendril of pain deep into his filling bladder. The teenager shivered but, guessing that he would need to put up and shut up, tightened his legs together. 

Natasha sighed and surveyed the four glittering glass walls that were to be her home for the next however many hours. "ебать," she hissed under her breath, lips pressed into a thin line. Peter wasn't entirely sure what she had said, but from the way she had said it, it sounded very much like a rude word. Her glowering put Peter's own pouting to shame; he decided not to ask her about it for fear of getting his head bitten off.  
Natasha, on the other hand, was trying to brace herself for what would likely be three or more hours encased in the elevator with a teenage boy; a teenage boy who was not only frightened (judging by the tone of his voice) but was in need of a toilet (judging by the fidgeting he was trying so desperately to conceal in front of her.)

"Yes," she told him simply. Though it didn't register on her face, she winced as his face crumpled and he sunk to the floor - knees pulled up and tight - with a soft, barely quivering, ‘Oh.’  
She didn’t ask what was wrong for, in that moment, she knew. Suddenly, this all seemed a little more torturous.

*

Natasha had never heard a boy whimper and hiss so much in her life. Every breath Peter took seemed to make him shiver a little and his leg was bouncing a mile a minute.  
A distraction.  
She needed to distract him. “How are you enjoying your time in the Tower, kid?” Nat asked after a couple of moments. 

“It’s… fun.” Peter said slowly. His voice shook from his effort of both trying to hold it and trying to conceal his need from the assassin he was sitting with. “I- I like working with Mr. Stark.”Ah. He seemed to get shy there. His face was already a mottled mix of red-pink-white, but it blazed even brighter somehow. For a split second the leg jerking paused and Peter sat entirely still. Natasha’s quick eye noticed this in an instant and she took a slow, deep breath. “Yeah? Talk to me, kiddo. What’d you do today?”He definitely wasn’t speaking a mile a minute like she had seen him talk to Pepper or Bruce, but slowly his speech picked up and slowly his fidgeting died down. Now that Peter wasn’t freaking out about needing to get to a bathroom he could push his need to the back of his mind in favour of talking about his work. Natasha listened as attentively as she could, mindful of the times when his breath caught in his throat, or he had to pause and wriggle, or his hand made its way to in between his legs for a decent squeeze. Oh, he was doing so well. So, so well. 

“A- and then Mr. Stark told me to go to the bathroom and…” Talking about having to pee again made his need return to the forefront of his mind in an instant, an urge cascading into him and forcing him to clamp his legs together with a noise of discomfort. “And here I am and I really, really need to go now.” He whimpered. His eyelids fluttered closed and his voice came out weak and soft as he gripped himself tight through his jeans, rocking forward and back to starve off the rolling waves of pain. “Mr. Stark is gonna be so mad at me if I pee in here!” Peter snivelled, looking toward Natasha urgently as if she could make the elevator move through sheer will. 

Natasha sighed and moved around the tiny box to the tightly shut doors, banging at them ineffectually. “He won’t be mad, doll.”

*

In the meantime, it took Tony an embarrassingly long time to realise that Peter had been gone for quite a while. He had done exactly what he had chastised Peter for in the first place and ended up growing engrossed in his work; pulling away from his StarkPad twenty five minutes later to clear his head was when the feeling hit. Where... where was Peter? He was only meant to be making a simple bathroom trip, something which wouldn’t have taken twenty five minutes... unless he had a catastrophically bad tummy. But judging by the boy’s clinginess he would’ve come right back if his tummy had started to hurt. Perhaps Peter was fed up of working? Another viable possibility, although considering Peter had been clamouring for an opportunity like this for a while, Tony thought that was rather unlike him.  
“J, throw up a map of the Tower for me.” Tony asked as he thoughtfully paced the floor of his workshop.

He... didn’t. 

When the realisation that he hadn’t been bathed in the cool blue light of JARVIS’ projection hit, Tony frowned and began to uneasily pace the floor. “Come on, J, what’s happened to you?”  
He had already lost Jarvis once. He didn’t want it to happen again.  
Tony paced his monitors slowly, then a little more quickly, in his attempt to identify what was wrong. It took five or so minutes but then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flashing red display on one of his screens; Elevator systems DOWN.

Shit.

Tony jammed his hands uselessly against the monitor. “Come on, Jarvis, one last leap…” he muttered. With JARVIS currently dead to the world Tony sighed and began attempting to reboot the systems. “Pepper!” He shouted. “Yes, Tony?” She came to stand beside him, peering at the monitors. 

“Go to the elevator. The elevator systems are down and Jarvis seems to have a bug.” He scrubbed at his face in stress. “And Peter’s inside the elevator, about to spring a leak. He’s probably freaking out - you need to calm him down for me.”

*

“Peter, sweetheart?” Pepper called through the closed doors of the elevator. “Are you alright?”

At the sound of a voice Peter gasped and scuttled over to the doors as best he could, hunched over. “Miss Pepper!” He called, but his bladder’s continuous prodding took his breath away and he could only mewl in response.  
Fortunately for him Natasha had copied his movement and was pressed against the doors too. “Pepper, he’s with me. He’s…”The red-haired assassin trailed off, taking in Peter’s stance. He was marching and stepping on his toes, hands buried deep into his crotch making him look every inch a potty dancing toddler. Still, even the pressing issue at hand didn’t stop him from looking up toward her and pleading silently not to tell. She bit her lip, but nodded. Stark was going to figure it out at some point anyway when there was a puddle on the elevator floor, or when he bounced out as desperate as ever. “He’s fine, don’t worry. Work on the elevator with Tony.” “…If you’re sure.” Pepper hesitated, but her voice grew distant as she retreated into Tony’s laboratory. Only when Peter was sure she had gone did he look up, shooting a grateful glance to Natasha. “Thank you, Ms. Romanov.” He whispered with a sniff. “No problem, kid.” She said. “How you holding up?”  
“…Good.” Peter said after a long while. His voice was strained and he spoke in a way that made Natasha think that Peter was telling a little bit of a lie. Still, it was pointless to question him; the situation was less than ideal as it was. “Alright, kid.” She said, not moving from her position at the door. “There’s gotta be some way we can wrench these doors open. I’m gonna work on this. You just sit tight.”  
After a short moment of deliberation, she offered a, “You’re doing good, kid. Keep it up.”

Peter didn’t respond, although his cheeks were red with fire. At least she didn’t think he was going to pee himself. 

*

Natasha pulled and tugged and attempted to jemmy the stuck doors of the elevator for what felt like aeons but she knew in the back of her mind it had only been ten or fifteen minutes at most. She had no tools to help her out and had to resort to brute force, tugging and kicking at the door and looking for any sign of let-up. Even if the doors opened just a tiny bit…

All of her efforts were useless, only seeming to succeed in making the small elevator carriage rattle. This movement was torture on Peter’s bladder. The jolting threw him forward when he was not expecting nor prepared for such movements and the iron tight grip he had trained his muscles into slipped catastrophically. Before Peter could even register what was going on a long, warm squirt of pee dampened the front of his jeans and sent him grabbing for his crotch in an instant. “Oh…” his voice came out tiny and wobbly but so full of relief. “Oh… oh no.”Though it sent a zig-zag of pain through his belly, Peter was moderately successful in getting a grip on his muscles and cutting the warm stream off. A part of him didn’t want to. A part of him wanted so badly to sink and go limp and pee until he was empty… until he remembered where he was and knew Mr. Stark would have been less than pleased with such an idea. Unfortunately, his bladder had tasted relief and was vengeful - wanting more. Angry flutters and pulses began in the pit of his gut and radiated to his lower regions; pulses that made whimpers and sniffles fall free without his say so, but thankfully no more pee. 

Natasha went cold at the boy’s moaning. “You good, kid?” She asked without turning around.

Peter sniffled and nodded, rocking as far back and as far forward as his bladder could manage. His face crumpled in pain and he panted a little bit. “Yeah. A— a little bit came out. Th… there’s no puddle, Miss Romanov, it’s okay.”

Natasha cursed inwardly as Peter volunteered this information but only nodded to the boy. She went back to her valiant efforts with urgency, but all she succeeded in was making the elevator carriage rattle a little more. Every rattle and bump seemed to travel right through to Peter’s bladder and make him feel as though his pee was sloshing all over… bringing him closer and closer to fully losing control and so every rattle was accompanied by a tightly squeezed out whimper or moan and he had to tense so hard the muscles in his legs shook.  
Eventually all of the boy's whimpering was too much for even Nat to bear and she slowly stopped pounding at the door. "You're alright, щенок, you're doing just fine." she whispered soothingly, crawling over to where Peter had curled up into a ball. She put a hand onto his tensed leg; he drew in a sharp breath and jolted at the slightest movement but still her hand remained, gently, softly patting. Again, Peter had no idea what she was calling him, she could've been calling him A Big Snivelling Baby for all he knew, although the gentle way she had said it made him think that wasn't the case - and he was much too preoccupied to ask. He couldn't muster up a response to her, and just gave her a wet-eyed pitiful kind of look. He was bursting. He was going to burst and prove just how much of a baby he was to Mr. Stark and he would end up in diapers.  
Without hesitating, as she had been mulling it over for endless minutes by this point, Nat pulled away from the trembling boy and held out...

a travel cup. 

It was steel, gleaming, and had been due a refill of iced tea, although Natasha was willing to have it be filled with something else just this once. It took Peter a moment to realise not only what he was looking at, but what Natasha was implying, and his bladder pounded eagerly at the thought. He stared at the cup through tiny wet eyes, battling against the flutterings of his aching bladder as he rocked forward and back, encouraging his bladder not to relax there and then. He... he could... the cup was a modest size and was definitely capable of handling a short flood-- but then Natasha would have to throw it away afterwards, and... and she might be able to hear him, hear just how badly he had to go— and see! She would see his…  
The thought of that scenario mortified Peter into shaking his head wildly no. The tips of his ears began to grow red in shame; the blush leaking down and blossoming over his cheeks. 

Natasha cocked her head questioningly. Though she had toyed with the idea that Peter was going to say no, the kid seemed desperate enough to try it at this point, so his denial still came as a surprise to her. "щенок, are you sure?" she murmured. 

Peter nodded silently, hands between legs as he backed himself as much into the corner as he could and attempted to sit up straight. Natasha was silent now, neither encouraging nor discouraging him, she set the flask down in the corner of the elevator as though she were encouraging a dog to take a dog treat. He would take it if he so badly wanted to. She, too, sunk to the floor.

 

*

Tony’s face was pressed into a firm frown as he tapped at buttons and keys on a nearby monitor, completely absorbed in trying to fix the elevator. He even had Pepper with him trying to reboot the AI overlay so they at least had a communication feed with their desperate little spider, and thanked every God there ever was that Pepper had a level head on her when it came to computers. She was stood a little way away from him, staring intently at a monitor as the re-boot protocol ran. 

“Do you think he’s alright?”

“Mm?”

“Peter.” Pepper said in concern without looking up. She had only had the briefest introductions to the boy courtesy of Tony and from what she had seen the Avengers had a very talented (albeit shy) young boy on their hands. Her schedule had meant that she hadn’t had ample time to introduce herself to him properly and… well, Tony being Tony had perhaps forgotten to let her in on the know about Peter’s… issues. “He sounded as if he was bursting when I checked up.”“Nothing new there…” Tony mumbled with a sigh as he quickly began to realise he hadn’t filled Pepper in. Well, the genius decided as he looked over the monitors, there was no time for it now. “Jackpot, Ms. Potts.” He grinned suddenly, seeing one of the monitors burst into life and show the pair a grainy footage feed of Natasha and a rather squirmy Peter inside the elevator. “You did it!”

Pepper grinned and unmuted the feed. Inside the elevator although the systems were still inactive a loud crackle of static told Peter and Natasha that something was happening. The sound made both Natasha and Peter jolt and the child’s gaze began darting around frantically. His hearing was much more sensitive than Natasha’s and he was sure he could hear Mr. Stark mumbling in the background of the static. Then the monitor in the elevator wall flickered on. Peter gasped as soon as he saw it, crawling faster than Natasha had ever seen him move in her life.  
"Mr. Stark!"  
Peter's voice was thick, positively coated in tears. He looked into the monitor in the elevator wall with his eyes red rimmed. "Mr. Stark, please, I really really have to pee!"  
There was no use being embarrassed about it now, Nat knew and Tony had seen him potty dancing ever since his first day. Natasha noticed that in his panic Peter had somehow managed to wrench both hands out from the position in between his legs… but the desperation was clearly kicking in a bit more as he began to jog on the spot and his hands were fighting to get between his legs once again. 

"It's Pepper, munchkin." Pepper's voice rang out clear and crisp through the elevator. "Tony's almost finished overriding the elevator controls, we're going to re-route you to my office. Closest bathroom. Hold on tight, sweetheart. It's just three floors away." she cooed. Even Natasha felt relieved upon hearing that. In the background, Tony's voice rang out too. "Nat, haven't you got a, I dunno, empty bottle or something?"

"No," Nat said quietly, since she didn't exactly plan on spending her afternoon stuck in the Tower's elevator with an increasingly desperate teenage boy. "I had my thermos-" she held the metal travel cup up "-but he refused to use it."

"Got it!" Tony ignored Natasha completely, his voice full of clear relief as the elevator jerked into life once more, throwing on the bright spotlights. "Sorry about that," JARVIS announced to the elevator's occupants, "I'm taking you to Ms. Potts' floor now."

Just three floors. 

It was. Just. Three. Floors. 

Peter sagged against the back wall of the elevator, both hands wedged into his jeans, gripping himself as if his life depended on it. His legs trembled, his breath was hitched and his eyes were wide and glossy as they fixed on the small monitor above the doors that indicated their floor level. 8, 9, 10... come on, 8, 9, 10... it was as if JARVIS knew Peter was so desperate to pee and was running as slowly as he possibly could. 

8... Peter started to squeeze, bringing his legs tightly together. 

By 9, that had increased to shifting up and down too, and he began to make funny mewling noises.

By the time the elevator lugged itself to floor 10 and the doors opened slowly (like a fanfare - all it needed was an angelic choral, 'hallelujah' alongside) Peter shot out without giving Natasha a backwards glance. 

"Pepper!" he squealed unhappily as he shuffled, the hand that was clamped around his privates starting to grow uncomfortably wet. It was so, so unfair... unfair how he was losing it, and yet he was so close to Pepper's bathroom - he could already see the bathroom door wide open, toilet right there beckoning him inside.  
"Pepper!" he pleaded again pointlessly as another little dribble ran down the inside of his thighs. His voice gave way to a little sob. He.. he wasn't sure how she could even help him... he just wanted to make it.. please, please someone, anyone... the teenager prayed to every possible deity there was that he could get there in time... although it still surprised him when he found himself in front of the toilet, door wide open (he was in much too much of a rush to close it!) and only an apple-sized wet patch of damage.   
"Oh..." Peter breathed, the sob in his voice disappearing at once and giving into anticipation instead. He began to toy with the strings on the front of his shorts so he could loosen them up enough to pull his member out and all but spray down the toilet like he so badly wanted to; his little, 'Oh's of anticipation growing in frequency. So... so close.. so close!  
...Unfortunately, his body had other ideas. Hands trembling, he only seemed to succeed in tightening the strings rather than loosening them. Peter tugged at his sweats in horror, finding that now they were firmly stuck around his waist. "No..." he whimpered, pleading to no one. "No please. I'm right here. I made it, I just wanna go pee!"  
His lip was quivering as he spoke to himself, going hot all over. With each effort Peter made in tugging his sweatpants, it only encouraged a thick gush of pee to burst forth and splatter warmth down his inner thighs. Another tug earned him the same result - forcing Peter to have to clamp his now-damp legs tightly together and squeeze on for dear life, dancing ineffectually in front of the toilet as his bladder pulsed aching to release the flood he was holding back. Another stream surged forth and was dribbling at his very tip. Peter squeezed desperately to hold it back, eyes darting around the room frantically. He was going to be stuck here potty dancing for the rest of his life if he didn't move - now. 

So Peter did the only thing he could do right now. The only thing his body was screaming at him to do. 

He collapsed onto the toilet to the point of pretty much straddling it and... let go, just like that. It started off as heavy droplets, but with his bladder so desperate to release they were quick to transform into a gushing spray. The wetness crept along the insides of his thighs, over his crotch and as far as his backside - heavy sweatpants doing a valiant job at absorbing the sheer volume of liquid he was forcing into them. It wasn't long, though, before even his sweats had to surrender and a thin dripping stream began to trickle into the toilet. Peter kept his head ducked down, dizzy with relief, toes curling lightly. The sensation of utter, pure relief that washed over the boy was enough to cancel out the panicky stream of, 'I'm peeing my pants right here in Pepper's bathroom!' that was trying its best to claw its way into his brain...  
...enough to cancel it out until he had finished peeing, at least.  
Rising shakily to his feet, Peter stared at his reflection in the full length mirror Pepper had on the wall nearby. There was a sizeable stain on his sweatpants by this point - much more than the apple size spot he had started off with. This stain reached low on his thighs and as far as his backside, and made his sweatpants cling to him all over, squelching wetness into the most uncomfortable of places. 

Ah. How was he going to explain this to Pepper? How WAS he going to explain it, exactly? 'I'm sorry Pepper but I pissed myself in your bathroom'?! How much of a baby would THAT make him sound! Gosh, no wonder he was getting diapers.

"Oh, pumpkin," A voice said from the doorway, and Peter's blood ran cold as he realised he hadn't shut the door. A little out of his eyeline he could vaguely recognise Pepper's outline, and turned toward her. He was trembling a little, although he didn't cry. 

Pepper stepped forward into the room, Peter instinctively flinched back. "Pumpkin, what happened?" 

Ah. Until she said that. 

Peter's lip began quivering. "I- I had to go pee 'n I couldn’t pull my sweats down 'n had an accident!" he explained in a rush, face growing hot with embarrassment, redness leaking into the apples of his cheeks. He seemed to be in such an embarrassed rush that he didn't quite catch himself when he said, 'askident' instead of 'accident', rubbing his teary eyes. Pepper noticed - of course Pepper noticed - but aside from a raised eyebrow she didn't react. This… certainly wasn’t the introduction she had been expecting to have with young Peter Parker, but equally Pepper knew better than to cause a scene now; it was best to roll with things.  
"Oh sweetheart, that's alright. Get cleaned up here in the bathroom and I'll get you some fresh clothes." she cooed as though she was speaking to a child much younger than Peter. Peter didn't quite mind; in fact he found it quite comforting that they all seemed to treat him like the baby of the team. Which - well, okay, he was the baby of the team - but... it was nice. He felt safe. Protected. It made his feelings about getting diapers even more difficult to handle. How could he both enjoy and despise this sort of treatment?

Sighing, Peter shrugged his thoughts away and turned on the shower. He almost felt as though he had had so many hot showers and baths that his insides would be squeakily shinily clean.  
But still he shrugged off his soaked clothes and stepped under the hot spray of Pepper's shower, letting the hot pearls hammer down his spine. It... it felt good. Pepper didn't have the banana bubblebath that Mr. Stark kept in Peter's personal bathroom, but she had some blueberry bubblebath in a container shaped like a dolphin, and that made him feel even better. The young Avenger scrubbed until he was sure he smelled of blueberry bubblebath rather than pee, before stepping out dripping. As if on cue, Pepper silently passed in some fresh boxers and a folded t-shirt... a t-shirt that didn't look like his own. Frowning, Peter unfolded it to get a closer look; quickly clocking on to the distressed 'Black Sabbath' logo. Tony's t-shirt...? Cool! He pulled the t-shirt over his tummy and marvelled at the way it looked on his body. Sure it was kinda baggy on the arms and waist, sure it kinda looked like a dress on him, sure it made Peter look like a toddler playing dress up and wearing his father's clothes... but Peter loved it. “Miss Pepper!" he gasped, pelting from the bathroom. "Pepper, are you sure?"

"Hmmm?" the lady turned from where she was loading Peter's soaked bottoms and boxers into the washer, smiling faintly when she saw the miniature Tony Stark stood before her. "Oh, Tony..." she teased, "I didn't see you there."

Peter giggled, a blush flowering over his entire face as Pepper leaned down to his level, ruffling his hair until it curled. "I- I'm not Mr. Stark!" he protested a little babyishly—even though logically he knew Pepper knew— "I'm not clever enough!”  
(Nor did he have the kickass facial hair, but he hadn’t started puberty properly yet and Pepper didn’t need to know that!)

"No? You look just like him," Pepper cooed adoringly with a voice practically dripping in sugar, "Except cleverer, handsome-r and cuter-er." she winked, smiling pleasantly as Peter's blush seemed to overtake his entire face and start creeping down his body too. "What was it you wanted to ask me?"

Peter fidgeted with the hem of the long tee, rubbing it between his fingers. "This is Mr. Stark's t-shirt." he whispered, "Are you sure I can wear it?"

Pepper nodded. Tony and she had been chatting while Peter showered; she had told him, concerned, about Peter's accident; he had told her that Peter's accidents were very much a long term thing, that he was rather surprised she hadn't come across the many puddles dotted all over the Tower ( _'did you think we had a... wonder dog, or something?', 'No, darling, I thought it was you!’_ ) ...and that he was likely to need 'protection' - protection that was arriving this afternoon. Pepper - being right, as always - had pointed out that Peter, as much of a darling munchkin as he was, would 'throw a shit fit' if he had to wear just a t-shirt and a diaper, especially if his jeans didn't fit over the bulk - or, heaven forbid, they had to... 'check' him. Tony, being Tony, hadn't quite thought of that. Together (that is, with guidance from Pepper) the pair came up with the simple solution that Peter would have to wear t-shirts that were long enough to cover the garment. His pajamas posed less of a problem considering they were so stretchy; Tony had decided to donate his Black Sabbath t-shirt.  
"Of course you can wear it, darling." Pepper cooed. "In fact, me and Tony have decided you can keep it!"

Peter's eyes widened, shock setting them alight like fireworks. "I... I can? You did?" he was bouncing slightly on his toes now - more of an 'excited bounce' than a 'child who has to pee' bounce. He was still bunching the hem of the shirt between his hands; it felt nice. Pepper chuckled at the boy; for a young teenager, he was doing a good job at making her feel broody. "We did, sweetheart." she affirmed. This sentence seemed to elicit a squeal in Peter that, if it got any higher, would barely be audible.   
"Thank you!" he squealed, darting forward and hugging Pepper with his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Pepper jolted at the unexpected hug but chuckled all the same, just managing to set the washer on a cycle before her hand came to land comfortingly on the small of the teenager's back. "Oh, pumpkin, that's alright." she smiled. 

Gasping, Peter jemmied his way out of Pepper's grip. "Gotta go thank Mr. Stark!" he decided, speeding off for the stairs. Pepper watched him go protectively as she turned back to the washing.   
Perhaps Tony's reasons behind giving Peter the tee were best left unsaid. 

**Author's Note:**

> my Russian is rusty and by that I mean google translate but:  
> ебать = shit/fuck  
> щенок = puppy
> 
> eee I love this one guys im sorry if you hate it but I love it


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